


I’m Caught On Your Coat Again

by annewithane



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bad Puns, Fluff, M/M, and thinks harry is out to get him, liam makes an appearance, louis and eleanor are best friends, louis drinks too much tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 18:37:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4273755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annewithane/pseuds/annewithane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Would you like some milk or crème? Or you could wait until they are cooled, unless you enjoy burning your taste buds off.” He breathes a short laugh.</p><p>Harry’s cheeks cave in with a pink flush. “I suppose I was just excited to taste something you named so sweet and something you recommended so highly.” Louis can’t tell if he’s still teasing. “I get why you like this.” He holds up the Yorkshire cup. “It’s quite bitter.”</p><p>Louis squawks. “Excuse me?” </p><p>“I like it.” Harry defends with a further blush. He likes it and it reminds him of Louis. </p><p> </p><p>Louis owns a café next to Harry’s bakery. Harry bakes Louis cake and Louis names tea after Harry and eventually they fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’m Caught On Your Coat Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [m83lou (kittyselyts)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyselyts/gifts).



“You cannot come in here with that.”

It’s a slow morning in the café, thank fuck. Louis hadn’t gotten home until after three last night after spending the night with Stan. A beer and pizza was his original proposition when Stan agreed to pick Louis up from the shop, and Louis only accepted because he cancelled on Stan last week in turn of a weekend at his sister’s.

Louis caught on quickly to Stan’s detour once he got in the car, and soon enough, Stan convinced Louis to join him at some new club across town. The club was nice, at best. Too packed, what with Stan conveniently taking him opening week. Only after arriving home did Louis realize how little sleep he would be getting.

With Stan working on his master, he’s still in full Uni mode, dragging Louis to random parties he hears from loud mouths on campus. After Louis graduated with a business degree three years back, that part of his life slowed to a near stop, especially after opening a teashop with Eleanor. The early hours that people seem to need caffeine has Louis up even earlier preparing it for them. Not that he minds, Louis loves the café. He’s just realised early mornings are more fun without a headache.

It wasn’t always the plan, to open a teashop. That’s mostly because he had not had a plan. 

After meeting Eleanor in second year, when they were put together for a group project (that they probably did well on, if Louis bothered to remember), they dreamed for years about opening a store together when they graduated. A small café seemed plausible. It was an easy choice they decided on after falling flat in their journey to find the perfect tea store in town. Three years later, and they seem to be doing pretty good for themselves. Louis is proud of the place, and he likes it. Mostly. 

Today, however, only an hour after opening this sunny morning, still hung-over, still lacking tea, and already God is testing him.

Louis nods over at the small paper bag with the pretentious, non-perpendicular logo on the front. It’s clutched in a young boy’s hand. He looks like he’s still in college, still naïve. And he’s looking at Louis, through small brown eyes, as if he is joking, looking as if he is unaware of the clashing colour scheme clutched in his hand. 

It’s obviously fresh. 

Louis can smell the coconut. He knows it’s a haystack. Eleanor tricked him into trying one when one of the lady’s from the bakery brought over leftovers one night. Louis was, of course, unaware of the origins. Eleanor was unaware of the possibility of being poisoned. 

It was good and Louis doesn’t eat anything out of a package from Eleanor anymore. 

The child, the naive boy, still looks at Louis with a confused tilt to his mouth. Louis waits for him to repent. “I’m-“

“He’s joking.” Eleanor shoves Louis back away from the front counter. She of all people knows he is definitely not. Louis backs away willingly from the kid, stepping over to boil fresh water. 

“What can I get you?” Eleanor asks simply, as if the boy is not responsible for the potential failure of their business. The kid gets the most disgusting thing on the menu. Well, it’s really not all that disgusting—it’s very good, as is everything on the menu—but it’s definitely what the boy from the bakery next door would get. Not that Louis would let him in his store. 

And the tea does not go with his pastry. 

He should have gotten the On a Roll tea, black tea leaves with coconut and cinnamon. They would have gone together perfectly. 

He orders his boring tea to go, thank god. 

“Louis, please stop killing off our business.” Eleanor pulls out a cup for the kid and starts her usual rant of the day of the importance of being tolerant towards shitty customers. 

She doesn’t get far. “That is honestly the most horrid logo I have seen in my life. I don’t deserve the displeasure of looking at it.” Louis has no idea what would possess someone to put a butterfly and a boat on the same packaging but there it is, in his shop, in his eye line. He shakes his head away when the child takes his tea from Eleanor and dumps three heaping spoons of sugar in his cup. “Ew.” He scoffs while picking up a rag to clean off the clean counter only to look at something besides the paper bag.

It’s not like it’s not a regular occurrence. Louis sees the butterfly shit on an average of three times a day. Apparently if one buys a pastry, they must buy a tea directly after. So it’s not like he’s not used to it—he has to see it blown up every time he steps out of his car in the morning. And it’s not ugly. It just symbolizes ugly.

The bakery, next to Louis and Eleanor’s tea store, is the only other proper store in the strip that sells anything you could call food, so naturally, the bakery is their competition, and naturally, Louis must win. 

“Here you are.” Eleanor hands the next person in line a less disgusting tea in a to-go cup and turns to face Louis. “Rough night? Can I get you a nice tea?” She asks, only with a half mocking tone. Louis had called her twice last night to pick him up. He knew she would be asleep, but a good friend should sense when their good friend calls them, and wake up.

“Tea.” Louis hums while ignoring Eleanor to make his own.

*

“That piece of shit.” Louis drops his bag on one of the hangers in the back room. He comes around to the front of the shop, meeting Eleanor’s amused eyes. She’s quickly sweeping the dust collected over night, looking too awake¬¬¬¬ for an eight AM shift. 

“Morning, Lou.” She doesn’t break her stare at the floor but Louis doesn’t miss her smirk. 

“That scarf-wearing coffee-drinking prick from next door stole my parking spot.” Louis immediately goes to boil water and pulls out a cup to make tea for himself. 

“The one with the good hair?” 

Traitor.

Louis and Eleanor both commented on this boy’s attractiveness, the one that works at the bakery. It opened after the teashop, a year after Louis and Eleanor’s peaceful business began. The first day the boy came past the store, they stared, unabashed. And then he kept coming back. Eventually Louis and Eleanor came to the conclusion that he worked nearby. But his attractive status was revoked when they found out he was responsible for the new store next door. The bakery. And he stole Louis’ spot.

And is trying to steal Louis’ customers.

“No, El. The one with the silly mess of a mop on his head,” Louis bites. He woke up a minute before his alarm after falling asleep at a decent hour to an episode of One Tree Hill. Well slept and ready to make tea, he was. Even put on a button up shirt and sang along to the radio this morning.  
The horror of a car in his spot erased all joys the morning brought him. Thanks to the mop. The nicely crafted mop. But still a mop.

Louis will admit, not willingly, the kid, the baker, has nice hair.

“Well I think he’s cute.” Eleanor shrugs. 

“Yeah yeah. He’s fucking cute.” Louis chugs down half of his tea before continuing. “How else do you think he's stealing our customers?” He wets a cloth and begins taking down chairs and wiping clean the tables. 

“Probably with his amazing bread.” Eleanor has made it no secret she religiously buys bread from next door. 

“No Eleanor, it’s with his charm and overly dramatic dimples and he took my fucking spot.” 

“You don’t have a parking spot.” Eleanor moves to make her own tea. She has a strict schedule. Green one day, Chamomile the next. 

“There is a spot that I park in every day that I bring my car and he took it.” It was just in front of the window, not quite in front of the door, almost in the middle of the bakery and teashop but obviously closer towards Louis’ teashop. Curly would have to walk at least three more steps to get to the entrance of the bakery than Louis would have to in order to get to the entrance of the café. 

“Well did you find a spot okay?” It’s green tea today, and she has gone with the Little Green Dress tea with schizandra berries and mint.

“Yes.” There was an empty spot right beside Dimple’s car. Which is far from the point. “I’m still going to write a strongly worded note to leave on his dashboard. And dump some tea on his tires.” Louis finishes cleaning the counters and fixing the store with just enough time to write his note before opening.

He waits for the place to pick up before the delivery. God forbid any of the spot-thief’s coworkers see him on their way to work.

It’s a Wednesday morning and Louis’ knows it won’t be too busy until lunch. After a few customers come and go, thankfully none with butterfly accessories, he makes an exit to the parking lot. 

It’s a clean dash to Curly’s car after doing a nice visual sweep for spies. Louis is quick to make sure he’s not caught. He refrains from the tea dumping. The mop doesn’t deserve any of Louis’ tea making skills.

He comes back to the shop quite the same as when he departed, what with it being not a minute since he left. There is a quiet murmur with only a few quiet students and a large group of a few older women sitting in.

Louis makes it behind the counter quickly. Just as quickly, Eleanor questions him. “What did you do?” She’s in the process of making a black tea to-go.

“What I said I would.”

“What did it said?” Eleanor gives away the tea and steps back to sip at her own.

“A simple, an effective, ‘this is my spot –L’.” He went back and forth between that and hey fuck you and your stupid car, but decided that didn’t get his point across very effectively.

“That’s sweet.”

It’s a slow day as a whole, as are the next few days, but it gives Louis and Eleanor time to reorganize and redecorate like they have been meaning to. On Friday, they attempt the back room. It’s not messy, Louis makes sure, but half the items keeping company back there are useless and unneeded. After throwing away half of the papers stuffed into the files, Louis decides on an extra trip to the dumpster instead of waiting until the end of the day.

A mistake.

Louis figures so as he gets halfway towards the dumpster at the edge of the parking lot. There is the mop. 

Now would be a good time to drag out some bakery secrets to report back to his team.

Louis walks up right as Curly finishes dumping his recycling away. “Hi.” Louis tries to catch the lid before the boy lets it fall.

“Hello.” It seems to take him less then a second to recognize Louis. “You work at the café right?” He points lazily in the direction of Louis’ shop with his eyes on Louis’. Instead of letting Louis take the lid from his grip, Curly holds it up, allowing Louis to throw away his recycling. He even stretches his arm up so Louis won’t be able to grab it if he tries. 

“I do.” Louis finishes with the recycling and moves towards the rubbish bin.

“L, right?” Curly grabs the lid right from Louis’ grip. He’s smiling. 

“H, right?” Louis received a very finely crafted letter on the hood of his car the next day where it was in its rightful spot. ‘You have a nice spot, L. Sorry. –H’. 

“It’s Harry.” And so the mop has a name. He slowly closes the lid after Louis dumps his rubbish away and makes no move to turn towards his bakery. 

“Louis.” Louis introduces with a quirk of his lips. He only shakes his hand after Harry’s initiation. A quick once over each other, a mumbled goodbye, an empty see you, and they separate. Louis gets back to the shop the same time Harry reaches the bakery.

The rest of Louis’ shift carries on quietly. Only one ugly package from the bakery. Sadly one too many. 

He and Eleanor mumble what they guess customers will order when they come through the door. Louis gets five right and Eleanor only two. Meaning Eleanor will have to pay for their weekly Sunday brunch over the weekend that they both have off.

*

Louis enjoys Monday mornings. They always have the most regulars coming in first thing and after two days away from the café, the smell always paints an extra toothy smile across his face. 

It’s nice enough to walk, which Louis always takes advantage of. The path Louis follows from his flat to the store is especially pretty with him having to go through the park, filled with lilac trees and morning dew. It’s still dark and the light wind hits Louis’ cheeks, colouring them a soft pink. 

“Morning El.” He sings from the back.

“Louis, Liam borrowed some brown sugar from next door yesterday. Do you mind swinging this bag over?” Eleanor asks the moment Louis takes off his coat. No hello. No pleasantries. She swings the bag of brown sugar out from under the counter, not leaving room for Louis to say no. 

Next door. As in the bakery, she means. Unless Liam borrowed brown sugar from a dentist, she means the bakery. 

“Yes.” Louis grabs the bag off the counter and shrugs his coat back over his shoulders. Leave it to Liam to run out of sugar at a tea store. 

Liam works at the café part time while he’s studying education at the University in town. He’s better at charming the customers than up-keeping the store, clearly.

The travel next door is short but painful. 

Louis opens the door, the one with the butterfly, carefully, cautiously. It opens the wrong way. 

Immediately Louis is overwhelmed with the smell of cinnamon mixed with caramel, along with the site of the mop’s hips swinging to a loud bass. The song is foreign to Louis. Harry, however, knows it word for word and harmonizes along to the track. 

The front room is small, with small decorations painting the walls. Directly behind the counter is a drawing of that dreaded butterfly. Its black contrasts nicely against the lavender walls.

Small shelves reveal the caramel scent from burning candles. He inhales deeply.

“Good morning, Louis!” Louis quickly turns to Harry’s voice. His lips turn into a simple smirk as he takes in Louis. His voice is raised loud over the music, a tad too loud for conversation.

Apart from Louis, only Harry and an older woman occupy the small room. Both are attempting to restock bread on the crowded shelves.

“Hi.” His voice comes out harsher than intended, so, good. 

“You like salted caramel? They are lovely, aren’t they? The candles, I mean. I did make them.” Louis looks back toward the small candles. He bakes and makes candles apparently. Louis doesn’t know how one makes candles but he is sure it’s a simple process. Harry’s leaning over the counter like a small child when Louis turns away from the shelves. 

“Did you?” Louis asks and Harry looks too happy with himself. “I’m not much of a fan. But then I suppose they go with the butterfly in that way.”

Harry continues to yell over the music, seemingly unaware of Louis’ comment. “What can I get you, L?” He’s still on that then. The other woman turns down the stereo and continues with the bread. 

Harry’s eyes burn into Louis’. 

“Nothing, thanks. El wanted me to run this-”

“Yes! The sugar! How did we go so long without?” Harry’s eyes light up as he rounds the counter and grabs the brown sugar from Louis’ hands. His excitement is borderline weird. “We have more, I’m only kidding. We always make sure we have enough ingredients to get through a day.” He doesn’t look at Louis, just smirks to his sugar. Probably eyeing the bold writing over the top stating it is, in fact, organic. He’s being a shit. Louis can admire that. 

He quickly runs to the backroom and Louis is close to making his escape. He doesn’t need to respond to Harry and his rude comment. 

“Now can I get you anything this afternoon?” Harry asks before Louis can move. Louis is ready to quip how he would definitely not want anything but Harry puts his finger in the air and does a spin towards a rack of round biscuits. “I just took these out of the oven! I’ll grab you one.” He grabs a paper bag, the one with the logo, the ugly one, and scribbles quickly with a sharpie before dropping two biscuits into the bag. He presents the bag with a flash of a smile. “Would you like a tea with that?” 

“I own a teashop.” Louis reluctantly takes the bag. 

“Of course.” Harry continues to stare, maybe slightly amused. “It’s on the house, of course.” Louis turns to leave. “Maybe I’ll stop by sometime. At your teashop. I’ll see you.” Louis doesn’t turn around, just backs out the door with a small nod of his head.

*

“What an arsehole.” He gets back to the shop quicker than he left. “What a complete undesirable I-belong-on-the-cover-of-a-farming-magazine human being. He spelled my name wrong. No, no, that would imply that he actually spelled my name, which he did not. Lewis. L-E-W-I-S. How pretentious. I told him my fucking name, fucking arse.”

Eleanor only laughs at him. 

*

It’s three days before Harry stops by. It’s raining and Louis can hear the water against the pavement outside. The wide windows frame the dim sky. Louis likes working in the rain, always hopes by the time he leaves he’ll get to see a rainbow. 

Louis was happy on this calm Thursday afternoon. The previously calm afternoon, until Harry shows up. 

Louis is not over it. 

He had attempted to overlook the Lewis situation. He really did. However, three days later and that hideous cursive is still engrained in his vision. 

Eleanor thought it was humorous, of course she did. She always thinks it’s amazing when the baristas at Starbucks spell her name wrong, even after countless times of Louis informing her it is specifically done just to piss her off.

“Louis!” So he does know it. “I said I would come, and here I am.” Here he is. His voice is only a touch too loud for the volume of the rest of the shop. He certainly makes an entrance, bringing in the brisk, clean air with him. 

The ends of his jacket, his rather obnoxious jacket, pick up at the end with the harsh wind. He looks like a catalogue cover. He looks ridiculous. 

His lips are a shade too dark to be natural—he probably spent the morning eating the strawberry tarts Eleanor likes to rave on about. 

His hands are tucked inside his disturbing knee length coat. Vertical black stripes and over sized buttons. And his smile is too wide. Too much dimple, Louis decides. 

“Hi Harry.” Louis smirks at his floppy curls. His hair is down around in his face opposed to the tight bun it’s usually pulled into. Louis can tell where the rain has affected his curls with little frizzy wisps. 

He’s not in his work clothes, the simple white T-shirt under his apron, the same outfit that Louis has seen him every single time he graces his presence. No, now he is in skinny jeans. Under the jacket is what Louis assumes is a shirt. Not much of one; his chest is exposed. He’s got his hands huddled in mittens and neck secure with a bright scarf. All done up with his chest out there, in Louis’ face. He looks absolutely absurd. Louis figures he should just wear his work uniform out and about instead of this getup. 

“It’s nice in here.” He walks in like it’s some kind of Narnia. “Is this your music? Who is it?” It’s the same song Louis hears at least three times a day but still unsure of who it is. Whenever Eleanor is working she demands full control over the sound system, and usually plays the exact same playlist.

“What can I get you?” Louis asks while Harry stares at the menu, seeming more entertained by the small doodles than the actually items for sale. Probably trying to find a way to sabotage the place.

His eyes roam over the menu too quickly to be able to read much of anything. “Well…” He purses his lips, caving in his dimples. “What would you recommend?” He turns to Louis. His eyes are big while he stares intently.

“Yorkshire tea.” Louis pulls out a to-go cup.

He ignores Louis completely in turn of searching the tea menu, and takes his time before his face breaks into a smile. “Oh! ‘You’re a Peach’, what a name! I’ll get that.” Of course Harry is more interested in the name of a tea rather then what is in the tea. Not that it’s not a good tea. But it’s predictable. 

“Is that-” 

“And! I think I would like another tea in case I don’t like that one.” Oh god. “You may decide that one.” Harry’s amused eyes return to the doodles on the chalkboard.

“Okay, is that all?” Louis blinks.

“Seeing as you don’t have any snacks, yes I suppose it is.” His mouth widens. 

Louis figures since Harry gave him the biscuits for free it’s probably proper to give him his drinks for free. It’s not to be nice, but Harry lights up when Louis tells him.

“Come by the bakery again and I’ll get you something for thanks.” Harry takes the two cups in one hand while transferring his weight to one leg but not moving from his stance. “I like the names of your teas. Did you come up with them?” Louis tries not to laugh at how amused this kid is over tea names. But it is nice to be appreciated for his tea naming skills.

“Some of them, yes.” Louis and Eleanor spent many hours arguing over the names of their teas. Most of them are ridiculous. They usually get a small grin for the creativity instead of Harry’s heightened entertainment. 

“The peach one?” 

“Yes, the peach one.” It was the most obvious Louis could think of for a green tea with peach and lemongrass. It is a good name though.

“This was your brilliant idea?” He sips the tea. Louis can tell it’s hot against his tongue. Harry swallows quickly and sticks his tongue out a tad for cool air. It’s a little cute. 

“Yes.” Louis watches, amused as he sips the Yorkshire and again burns his mouth. “Would you like some milk or crème? Or you could wait until they are cooled, unless you enjoy burning your taste buds off.” He breathes a short laugh.

Harry’s cheeks cave in with a pink flush. “I suppose I was just excited to taste something you named so sweet and something you recommended so highly.” Louis can’t tell if he’s still teasing. “I get why you like this.” He holds up the Yorkshire cup. “It’s quite bitter.”

Louis squawks. “Excuse me?” 

“I like it.” Harry defends with a further blush. He likes it and it reminds him of Louis. 

“You like it, do you?” Louis leans against the counter. He’s flirting, a bit. Only slightly. Harmless. “You mean, you like me, in other words?” 

“You are quite amusing, aren’t you?” Harry sips his tea again. “I suppose I would like anyone who took time to avoid using boring names.” 

Louis wonders what Harry’s thoughts would be on the tea if he’d called it Green Tea with Peach. “Hm.” It’s not as if changing that to ‘You’re a Peach’ tea was much of a feat, but he is charming. “But we’re enemies.”

“I know. It’s okay, it’ll probably pass.”

And with a polite nod he’s off.

Louis notes that Harry does not put sugar in his tea. 

Good man. 

*

Harry is dancing in the back room when Louis comes in to the bakery, to a new song. It’s a cover of a top forty song. Louis recognizes it behind the bad pronunciation and shitty acoustics.

It’s a week later and he absolutely does not want to see Harry, he is here strictly to distract Harry from his job. And after teasing his tea naming skills, Louis needs to tease him back, to be fair.

Louis takes in the new scent of fresh bread.

“Louis!” Harry yells when he notices him over the counter. He comes around the glass window, wiping his hands clean on his trousers. “It’s you!” Louis can appreciate his enthusiasm. Harry meets him at the counter before he pivots towards the back again. “Guess what just came out of the oven?” He calls as he jogs.

“Tell me!” Louis attempts to mock interest, though actually quite interested. Not that he came to buy any pastry; he came to bug Harry. But that includes free food.

“A French loaf and you are Louis.” Louis tries not to smile but Harry’s huge grin is a tad contagious. “Would you like it?” He looks like he would probably give it to Louis regardless of his answer. “I call it ‘The Sun Bread’.” 

“Please.” It smells good, and Louis still hasn’t gotten his thank you snack for the tea, even if the tea was a thank you for the biscuit. 

“Come up with any good tea names this week?” Harry asks as he packs the bread, his hips still moving with the song. It’s not much of a dancing song but Louis thinks Harry can pull it off all right. 

“Actually just now.” Louis smiles with the scent of Harry’s homemade candles on his nose. “It’s called cocoon and it tastes like salted caramel.” 

Harry’s back contracts towards the bread in giggles. “Oh?” He huffs a laugh. “Cute and he has a sense of humour.” 

Louis is not cute. “Me in a sentence.”

“Anything else?” Harry turns around from the counter to face Louis with curious eyes and up-tilted lips.

Louis searches the menu for this tea Harry mentioned last time. “Seeing as you don’t have any tea, I suppose that is all.”

“Actually we do, can I get you some?” Harry is too smug. But he does rush to the back room to retrieve a small cup. 

“Yes.” He watches Harry pour hot water from a kettle. Clearly from one that does not hold fresh water. 

“Here you are.” He hands the cup over the counter along with the bread. He is smiling like he is exactly aware that Louis will complain and Louis is not one to let him down.

“This is a cup of hot water.” Hot is probably a bit of an overstatement. Harry points to some tea bags on a side table, his smile reaching further towards his ears. At least he knows his tea sucks. “Are you shitting me?”

“Have a nice day, Louis.” He waves. “Enjoy your hot water.”

Louis dumps the water out of the butterfly cup when he gets back to his shop and makes fresh tea in it instead.

*

Harry has started a new habit. 

He waves every morning when he passes Louis’ store. Every morning. He parks, not in Louis’ spot, Louis makes sure, and having to pass the café, he smiles brightly and waves. He waves until Louis waves back.

It’s almost sweet. Louis is almost endeared. 

It’s a Friday morning, almost opening, and Harry still has not come by for his morning routine. 

“He’s probably got the day off.” Louis explains to Eleanor. 

“Probably.” 

It’s a steady pace for most of the day. 

Eleanor replays her date from the night before. She went to a restaurant that apparently Harry had recommended to her. She speaks very highly of the food and mentions at least three times that Harry has very good taste in date locations. 

She re-enacts an entire conversation of what colour is best for painting a toilet. 

She’s going off about how her and her date shared the most marvellous dessert when she breaks the conversation. “Hi, Harry.” Louis spins around from where he is washing teacups, the cup slipping from his hand and throwing water around his front in the process. 

“Hi, Harry.” Louis echoes. He’s not in his work uniform. Louis confirms his day-off theory. He’s in an even more ridiculous coat, probably longer than the striped one. His hair is pulled back in a bun that Louis can see peeking out behind his head.

“Louis. Eleanor.” Dimples. “How’s business today?” Wanker. 

“It’s been good. How has your day been?” Eleanor asks sincerely. “Louis was worried when you didn’t show your face this morning.” 

Harry’s dimples deepen. Louis kicks his foot out to hit Eleanor’s. “It’s been good. Thank you, Eleanor. I have the day off, in case you were wondering Louis, and I thought I’d come sit in and write a bit.” He directs the last bit to Louis, his eyes happy and unmoving from Louis’.

“Riveting.” Louis wipes his hands dry and clears his voice. “Can I get you anything?”

“Do you guys do custom teas?” Harry fumbles distractedly at the buttons of his coat.

“What do you want Harry?” 

“How do you feel about banana tea?” He knows he’s being a shit. His face is too happy. “I could help you with the name. Something like, I Gotta Split.” It’s a ridiculous name, and if Louis had banana flavoured tea, that is exactly what he would call it.

“We don’t have banana tea.”

“Make me something unique. Something that you have never made anyone before. Special just for me.” Harry bounces on his heels. He looks ready to click them together and return home.

“Yeah okay.” Louis’ mind goes back and forth between mixing the most disgusting thing he can think of or the best. When he sees Harry, now rocking back on the heels of his shoes, he decides disgusting. Instead, he just ends up pulling pretty leaves into an infuser that he thinks Harry might like. 

Harry takes it happily. He blows softly on the surface, this time taking a suitable duration of minutes before sipping it. “Did you give it a name?” His eyes are so big.

“How about ‘Harry’s No Name Tea’?”

He sips it carefully. “Tastes nothing like the stuff we sell.” 

“I would hope not.” Louis scoffs. 

Harry takes his tea and turns on his heels to find a suitable table.

He finds a seat at the table across from the counter in Louis’ direct sight. 

He opens a compact leather book with writing covering the spine.

Louis can tell by the way his hand moves and the short view of the pages that his writing is pretentious. He is probably writing about a piece of bread he sold yesterday, or about how nice his shitty shoes are. 

“What are you writing?” Louis leans over the counter to ask.

“I’m writing about how lovely your tea is. Are some of those ‘You’re a Peach’ leaves in here?” Harry asks, taking another sip.

“Mhm.” Louis nods.

“I can taste it.”

The afternoon passes quickly with Louis leaning over once in a while to bug Harry, and Harry doing the same to Louis. 

He asks for a new tea halfway through his stay, then tries to guess the flavours. He’s mostly correct. 

He also switches the colour of his pen. He has a package of at least thirty, Louis notes. And they look expensive. Some art school looking pens that Harry made an investment in, only to write about Louis’ tea. 

“Louis, look! This pen matches your eyes.” Louis stops by his table after cleaning a few nearby, leaning in close.

The colour of Louis’ eyes. 

Louis read the page again.

The colour of Louis’ eyes.

The same thing. 

“So it is.” He huffs a laugh with pink cheeks. 

Louis shift ends before Harry looks like he is ready to leave. He’s still writing in Louis’ eye colour. Louis notes whenever Harry’s hand moves to the edges of the pages where he’s drawing little doodles. Louis can’t tell much of the shape from behind the counter. Probably a butterfly. Louis is quite taken by Harry’s writing, despite only reading the one sentence.

He can probably find something to do for another hour. Eleanor left a few minutes ago so she isn’t here to give him shit.

“Louis! Are you still on with me?” Liam comes behind the counter to start his night shift. Course that gets Harry’s attention. 

“No, Liam I’m done now.” Louis reluctantly goes to grab his shit from the backroom. He has the weekend off. It would be rude not to say goodbye to Harry, since he won’t see him till at least Monday.

He keeps cleaning clean things before trying to make an exit. 

“I guess I’ll see you later Louis.” Louis whips his head to face Harry who seems to be packing up his colourful pens. “I should head to dinner now. It’s my brother-in-law’s birthday.” He slings his bag over his shoulder. It’s barely staying together, Louis notes, but it matches with the shoes almost falling off his feet, so Louis thinks it could be appropriate. “It’s strictly black and white dress, my sister’s orders, of course.” Yes, that does sound like a something someone related to Harry would do, Louis decides. “I don’t think she’d appreciate my red jacket.” 

Louis doesn’t think many people would appreciate that thing. “Okay. Goodbye, Harry.” They smile at each other and Harry then takes his tea and is out the door. Louis is almost certain there is no tea left in his cup. It’s too light in Harry’s touch; has been for the last five sips. Louis wanted to refill it but he has a strict rule against using the same tealeaves twice. He almost made Harry a new tea but Eleanor would have noticed if Louis made Harry one before Harry asked for it.

Louis says goodbye to Liam and rushes out the door to enjoy his weekend.

*

“Just go over there.” Eleanor has her back towards him, obviously unaware of Louis’ inner turmoil over the situation. Or purposefully mocking him because of it. Her dishes are more important to her than his predicament. 

“I can’t!” 

“Louis, you’re a mess.” It’s been over a week since Louis has gone over to the bakery. And six days since Harry has been over at the shop. As much as Louis could use some bread, he can’t just walk straight into the competition. Harry had waved this morning. Louis knows he is over there right now. He is probably dancing right now. Harry always dances at work. 

Louis could be seeing Harry dance right now. 

But six days is too soon. Right? Unless Harry is expecting him. He could be waiting with fresh bread for Louis right now. Or he could be currently making Louis bread and for Louis to walk over before it is finished would be rude.

“Eleanor, go over there and get him to come over here.” He has been whining all morning, he knows he has. Whining to get Eleanor to drag the boy over here so Louis can make him tea. It’s for a good reason though, so Louis deems it as acceptable.

Eleanor rubs her temples. “That will disrupt the system.” She explains. “He came here last, now you go there.” Eleanor does not understand the system.

“No but I walked with him to his car last night.” Louis passes a cup of tea over the counter to a usual customer. “Here you are.” Louis loves usual customers. Likes knowing when to expect them instead of being left to wait as to when one will return.

“What?” Eleanor finally faces Louis. Now that she is away from the dishes Louis can display his pleading on his face.

“We closed at the same time and we walked to our cars together.” Obviously they closed at the same time and Louis did not wait until the lights had turned off next door before quickly locking up.

“Louis, that is five steps away from the door.” Eleanor picks up a rag to clean off the counter. 

Louis leans against the counter next to the till. “But we stopped and talked and he gave me a scone and complemented my tea and he yawned like a kitten and—” The door cuts Louis off. It’s not Harry. Of course it’s not. 

“Louis. I’m hungry. Go get me a croissant.” Eleanor waves Louis off and moves to help the customer at the till. 

“Okay.”

Louis grabs his coat and is out the door. 

The walk is short. Mostly because Louis walks fast.

And there he is, covered in flour and smiles. And he’s dancing. Of course he is. 

His eyes are bright when he finds Louis at the door. “Louis!” He waves from a few feet away. Separated only by the short counter. “Hi! I made a cake!” 

“Hi, Harry.” Harry is still swaying on his feet as he takes in Louis. “Eleanor wants a croissant.” Louis leans his elbows across the counter. Maybe he wants a croissant as well. 

“Of course.” Harry sets down his cake and Louis’ eyes fight between Harry’s back where he is packing the croissant and the cake. Maybe he wants cake instead. “Would you like some cake Louis?” Harry asks, still turned around.

That sounds better than a croissant. “Yes.” Louis demands while he steps up on one of the bar stools on the counter and swings his legs from side to side pulling the chair with every movement.

“Have at it.” The cake appears to him on a plate. The inside is pale purple with white frosting. It’s beautiful and Louis is hesitant to do much else but look at it. “There’s another in the oven you must try as well, it will be only a minute.” 

He ignores him in turn of the cake. It’s quite good. Of course it is, Harry made it.

“And here is Eleanor’s croissant.” Harry sets down the croissant on Louis’ left. Louis decides he’ll eat the cake slowly.

“How was your brother-in-laws birthday?” Louis questions. Harry comes from around the counter and takes the stool next to Louis’

“It was very fun. We went to this wonderful restaurant near my sister’s house. I had some tea. It was nowhere near as good as yours and it had an average name. But they did have this nice zucchini tagliatelle with peach coconut sauce.” He’s smirking. He is also still swaying to the music from his chair, lightly knocking his feet against Louis’. 

“That sounds disgusting, so I’m sure you enjoyed it.” Louis snickers, trying to keep his mouth closed around his fork.

“Mhm.” Harry smiles proudly. “So how is it?” He nods down at the cake.

“Hmm.” It’s delicious. “It’s okay.” 

His smile falls into a pout. “Okay? Just okay? You don’t like it?” Louis smiles at Harry’s worried eyebrows, hoping his expression is contagious to Harry. Harry tilts his head, questioning Louis’ smirk, and hops off the chair when a timer goes off, Louis suspects, for the other cake. 

Harry returns with the cake to set on a cooling rack in the front room on a counter near the back corner. Louis can smell it from his chair. 

“I’ve had better.” Louis’ finishes the last bite with a grin, pulling his lips far enough it starts to hurt. He pushes his plate towards Harry on the counter. Harry moves away from his new cake to take the plate from Louis. Maybe Louis should make a cake tea. Harry would like that. 

“You sure?” 

Louis wracks his brain to remember the last time he’s had cake nearly as good. It’s blank. “Yes.”

“Prove it.” Harry moves away from the counter and drops off the plate in the back room. 

Louis’ looks around at the décor distractedly. “Hmm?” Under the large, and still ugly, butterfly, Louis notices coloured drawings of the same butterfly tacked onto the wall carefully. It looks like crayon mixed with marker on most of the drawings except for one done in pen. The pen that looks like Louis’ eyes. Louis’ eyes rake the rest of the walls before Harry comes twirling back into the front room.

“Take me there.” Harry smirks at Louis before falling back towards his cake. 

“Take you?” Louis hops off his chair and rounds the counter to peak over Harry’s shoulder. The cake looks delicious. Everything Harry makes looks delicious, Louis imagines. 

“Yeah, to the place that you got this cake.” Harry swats Louis’ stomach to shoo him away. “The one better than mine.” Harry turns his head to face Louis while fully pushing him back around the counter.

“Okay.” Harry wants Louis to take him somewhere. 

“Are you asking me on a date?” Harry asks accusingly. 

No. Harry definitely did the asking. “Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. I’m going to go now. Thanks.” Louis takes the croissant for Eleanor, the reason he came here in the first place—other than to bug Harry. 

“Bye, Louis!” 

The walk back is slower, probably because Louis debates going back to bug Harry some more. But no, the croissant. Eleanor needs her croissant.

Once Louis steps inside the café, he swings said croissant above his head and tosses it gently into Eleanor’s hands. “I asked him out!” Louis sing-songs. He grabs his tea he left on the back counter before deciding he deserves a fresh cup for asking Harry out.

“No you didn’t.” Eleanor sips her cup from the counter beside Louis, tossing the croissant on it.

“Harry thinks I did.” And Louis is definitely not smug.

Eleanor turns at the breeze coming from the door. “Oh look. Harry.” Louis whips around. He looks good. The same as he did ten minutes ago, but still good. “Hi, Harry. Louis has been spreading some rumours.”

Louis shushes Eleanor and meets Harry at the break in the counter. “Hi, Harry.”

“Afternoon, Eleanor. Hi, Louis.” He is carrying a butterfly box, and he looks as happy to see Louis as Louis is to see him. 

“Would you like a tea?” Louis pulls the peach tea off of the shelf before Harry has time to answer.

“Sure. But also you forgot your cake.” He sets the box down on the counter and pushes it towards Louis as far as he can reach. Louis grabs it before Harry tries to push farther from his tiptoes and sets the cup of tea in Harry’s hand. He sniffs the tea peacefully with his eyes shifting. “And… Tomorrow?” He’s blushing. Louis thinks he should always be blushing. “Is tomorrow okay? Does tomorrow work?”

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow is okay. Tomorrow works.” Louis tries not to blush back but his cheeks burn without his consent. 

“Tomorrow then.” And Harry ducks away with his tea, smiling out the door.

Louis turns to Eleanor. “I asked him out.” 

*

Harry doesn’t wave in the morning. Louis assumes he has the day off. Which means that he has the entire day to get ready for the date. And since he is picking Louis up right as his shift ends, he has a day longer than Louis to prepare. 

The day is slow. It goes back and forth between a long line up and an empty store. And yes, Louis has spotted the butterfly on more than one occasion, but instead of kicking them out of the store, he only wishes he had one as well. 

By the one-hour countdown, Louis is on his fifth cup of tea. 

Eleanor has spent the entire day trying to guess what crazy-romantic gesture Harry will pull out of his ass, rattling on about what part of the date she thinks Harry will kiss him at. She’s decided the end of the date. 

At the ten minute mark, Louis starts making Harry’s tea. He’s moved the peach tea off of the top shelf and closer to arms reach for quick access. He’s not even sure if Harry actually did enjoy the tea the first go but is still too infatuated with the name to ask for anything else. 

Of course Harry is early. 

The tea is steeping when Harry walks in the door. Louis is hidden behind the cupboard when he hears the door open, and he can tell it’s Harry by the way he carefully shuts the door before his heels click across the hardwood floor. 

A swoop in Louis’ stomach, and he’s flicking his fringe in place. His apron misses the rack after he throws it off quickly. The tea is a minute away from where Louis would drink it himself, but decides Harry can take it less dark, and chucks the tea bag away. 

Louis hears him before he sees him. He sounds like he looks good. “Hi, Eleanor.” Eleanor winks back at Louis before approaching Harry at the counter.

Louis grabs Harry’s cup, getting ready to join Harry around the counter.

“I was betting on leather, but good look nonetheless.” The smile in her voice is gross. 

“Next time, I promise.” Harry giggles. He is giggling. He knows he looks good. He also just asked Louis on a second date. 

“Let’s see if you can get through tonight first.”

Deep breath. “Hi, Harry.” 

Well, there’s no leather. But there is a hat. His hair falls past his shoulders under a large black hat. It ends up shadowing the tip of his forehead and makes his eyes a forest green. His chest is covered, surprisingly. A black and gold embellished jacket covers up to his neck. It is probably the most ridiculous thing Louis has seen Harry in.

“Hi, Louis.” 

“I’m ready.” 

“Good to hear.”

“Okay, get out of my shop.” Eleanor shoos Louis out from behind the counter. 

Harry meets him at the break in the counter, waiting for him. It’s all awkward smiles and shuffled feet until Louis turns towards the door, knowing Harry will follow. Harry catches up when Louis stops at the door, waiting for a couple to enter. Harry’s hands grab at the bottom of Louis’ jacket and hold tightly all the way out the door.

“I brought cake.” Harry breathes, fingers still playing with the back of Louis’ jacket while guiding him towards his car. 

“I thought we were going to get cake.” Despite the pleasant closeness of Harry against his back, Louis admits it’s not a very efficient display of transportation, with Harry on his heels, waddling slowly as to not kick against Louis’ shoes. “I researched cake shops in the city, and did a survey of all my customers today on their favourite cake shops.” Louis pouts and stumbles over his feet as Harry tries to drive him in the right direction. 

“Yeah well I know you’re full of shit. Here we are.” Harry lets go to open the door for Louis to the passenger side. He only sneaks a small pout at the loss of contact. 

It’s clean, the car. That’s the first thing Louis notices. He hands Harry his tea before taking in the rest of the car. No empty cups or random papers with short thoughts like Louis’ car. There is a single box occupying the back seat, the cake, Louis guesses. He probably doesn’t even smoke in here based on the simple forest scent. “Can I smoke in here?” Louis doesn’t even have a lighter on him.

Harry hums before he answers. “My mum gets pissed if she smells even a hint. Not that she’s in here that often but she can always tell even if it’s from a month ago.” He puts in a CD obviously burned by himself. “So no. Okay, let’s go to your favourite place.”

The music is definitely something from the bakery. Louis’ heard it before. He’s heard Harry sing it before. “That would be… “ Louis doesn’t usually sit and ponder his favourite place. He could say the bakery. He can even imagine the dimple that would appear in Harry’s cheek if he did. But, god, he hates that butterfly. He doesn’t pretend to not know why the bakery is his favourite place. But he can’t exactly say ‘you’. “That would be my tea store.” It’s an easy answer. It’s probably true. It’s the best scent when he walks in mid-day and can smell the mix of leaves steeping throughout the store and it’s his. 

“We can go back in.” Harry tells, taking a break from blowing lightly on his cup to cool his tea.

But Louis wants to be outside and he wants Harry by himself. “I have another place.”

“Okay.”

Louis gives Harry directions to the pond behind his mother’s old house. It’s hard to interrupt Harry’s singing when Louis needs to tell him where to turn but Harry resumes each time. It’s not far from the café. They make it there in under ten minutes and park in the empty lot surrounded in trees.

Harry meets Louis on his side of the car after sprinting from the driver’s side. Louis hopes he’ll grab his jacket again except this time he has the cake in one hand. “I’ll follow you.” He smiles too wide for what he’s saying but he reaches out at the same time for Louis’ hand. Louis’ hand tightens automatically. Louis almost laughs at his own reaction. He’s being silly but Harry’s hand is awfully nice.

Louis tugs Harry along the pond towards Louis’ bench. When he was in school, Louis used to come here all the time. It was always a break when the house was too loud or when he wanted to be alone. 

“I think this is my favourite place too.” Harry squeezes his hand against Louis’ palm. Louis wonders what it was previous to today. 

Harry sets down the cake when Louis leads them to a short picnic table along the side of the pond. 

“Would you like to open the box?” Harry pushes it towards Louis with their hands still tightly sewn together resting on Harry’s trouser leg. 

“Yes.” Louis feels a sort of unexpected excitement. He’s had plenty of Harry’s cakes before. But each one is a new favourite for Louis.

He opens it slowly, suspense at the flavour in full swing. 

You’re a peach.

That’s what the cake says. Mostly. You’re a, and then a sliver of a peach. The cursive writing, unmistakably Harry’s, is in peach coloured icing, contrasted by a bright white base. It’s a pretty cake. If Harry were a cake, he would definitely be this cake. Louis is smiling too wide to be able to say as much. 

“It’s peach flavoured as well, the cake, if you were wondering.” Harry speaks carefully. 

Harry didn’t bring plates, or a knife. They instead pick at the cake with the plastic forks Harry tucked in the side of the box. Harry picks from the middle and Louis goes from the sides, shovelling the extra icing with his fork. Harry splits the peach and gives Louis the bigger piece of the two. 

“What made you decide to open a café?” Harry’s fork scrapes lazily against Louis’. They’re both full and still scraping off small slivers of the sides to stuff in each other’s mouths. 

“I wanted a cute boy to make me cake everyday.” Louis licks the underside of his fork. “I’m still young. I’m hopeful. Maybe he’ll come one day.”

Harry hums. “Maybe he’ll open up a bakery next to your store.”

“Maybe he’ll try to sell me really shitty tea.”

“Hey! I gave you that for free!” Harry licks icing that has oozed over his fork and onto his fingers.

“Well, I guess you’ve one-upped the mystery man already.”

“I guess you’ll just have to settle for me then.”

“Hm. I guess you’re not too bad. For second choice, that is.”

“Yeah yeah. Finish your cake.” He nods towards the smeared icing and crumpled bits.

“I don’t know if I can eat anymore.” Louis groans but reaches for more anyway. “Tell me why you opened a bakery.”

“I like making cake for cute strangers and making them go on dates with me.” Harry smiles at his well-destroyed and devoured cake.

“Yeah? You have a good track record for this kind of thing?”

“You tell me. You’re my practice run.” Harry bumps his shoulders against Louis’, swaying them on the bench. 

“Well, you got me to the date, didn’t you?”

“That I did.”

It gets dark quickly after the cake box is emptied. Louis grabs Harry’s hand and drags him for a walk in the park. 

It’s quiet like it always is at night. Louis remembers every twist and turn in the path around the pond.

Harry is quiet as he takes in the scene, randomly skipping and randomly stopping, to chase a rabbit or look at a flower.

They make conversation. About Louis growing up. About the music Harry blasts in his bakery. The right way to prepare tea. The wrong way to install a door. 

Harry laughs at all of Louis’ jokes. Louis blushes every time Harry compliments him. And it’s easy.

“So I was thinking…” Harry holds on to Louis’ hand over the seats, not letting him out of the car. They walked around the park six times before Harry yawned and Louis dragged him to the parking lot despite many protests. Louis gave Harry directions home taking every long-way he can think of. 

Louis widens his eyes comically at Harry words. “You’re very amusing, aren’t you?” Harry giggles out while throwing Louis’ and his clasped hands against Louis’ thigh. “I was thinking we should do this again.”

It’s odd to Louis—Harry’s blush, the small twitch in his hand. Of course they would do it again. Harry informed Eleanor of a next time.

“Of course.” Louis’ response only darkens Harry’s cheeks. But he loosens his hand and Louis frees his to say his goodbye. He doesn’t want to leave but he doesn’t want to ruin the night with any awkward words or too deep confessions. “Goodbye, mystery cake boy.”

“Goodbye, cute stranger.” Harry ducks his smile. And Louis locks his blush in his mind before closing the door.

*

Louis wakes up smiling. Probably was smiling all through the night. From what he can remember from his dreams, Harry was there. And he was smiling along with Louis. 

His eyes focus on the room and specifically his jean jacket that’s piled on the edge of his bed. Surprised he hadn’t kicked it off in his sleep, Louis kicks it to the ground. 

Louis has the day off work but he figures Liam could use some help opening the shop. 

After checking his clock, he figures Liam could use some help with the lunch rush. Or Liam could use a hello, so Louis has an excuse to be near Harry.

He speeds through his morning routine but takes extra time with his unwashed hair. He pulls on a warm jumper and tight jeans. He ignores Eleanor’s multiple text messages and speed walks to the store through the cold wind.

He knows Harry is working. And he knows Harry is more than likely singing. 

It’s not usually like this. Louis is usually not like this. Can’t remember a time like this. He enjoys the occasional date Eleanor pushes him into, enjoys them for the night and doesn’t usually see the bloke ever again.

Of course it would be Harry to weasel his way into Louis affections, the guy who likes his tea names and bakes him cake. 

The café is in full swing when Louis arrives. Liam is cheerful from behind the counter. Expressive and open faced. “Louis! Hey, is everything okay? Eleanor just stopped by to see if you were here? Said she knew you’d be in today. Didn’t know if I should be worried.” He’s boiling water when Louis approaches. Sophia is out on the floor clearing off tables.

“Eleanor doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Just wanted to check in. Had nothing going on today, wanted to see if you needed any help.” Louis looks around the back counters, making sure everything is in order. He’s ready to make his exit.

“We’re good here actually. Been a good pace.” Liam is probably just as eager to move Louis along. He doesn’t make it a secret how much he likes Saturday mornings when he’s on alone with Sophia. 

“Alright then, see you. Bye, Soph!” He leaves quickly after Sophia’s excited wave and makes his way next door. 

He’s already facing Louis before the door closes. “Hello, stranger.” His voice is deep. His hair looks slept on and Louis smiles because he came to work with his date hair. He’s decorating a cake with pink icing that matches the colour of his key chain.

“Hello, pretty cake boy.” Louis leans over the counter for a better look at Harry’s cake. He wonders if it’s for him. Harry would give it to him anyway if he asked nicely. 

He abandons the pretty cake in turn of leaning over the other side of the counter towards Louis. “Liam told me you weren’t working today.” He’s rocking back and forth, getting closer to Louis with each rock. 

“You asked Liam if I was working?” Louis wasn’t aware that Harry and Liam were on first name basis. But Harry checked up on him. And that means he probably has before. 

“Almost. I walked in and that was the first thing he said to me.” 

“Odd boy, he is.” Harry breathes a soft laugh. They’re close. Louis could definitely move without difficulty and press their lips together. Harry’s even breath collides with Louis’, in-between their faces. “When are you off?” 

They spend Saturday night together. Harry takes Louis, by foot, to the restaurant he recommended to Eleanor and orders him something Louis is sure will be gross and he makes it known so, even though it’s perfectly nice when the plate arrives. Harry is too cocky about Louis not spitting his food out like he promised he would. Louis orders Harry something with a fun name because he knows that’s all Harry cares about. He seems to like it enough. Even asks the waitress for the ingredients of the pasta sauce. 

Harry orders a bottle of red wine too sweet to be Louis’ first choice but he drinks the glasses Harry pours for him.

Harry gets sillier with every sip, laughing loudly at the snap of Louis’ fingers.

“I like your laugh.” Louis tells him across the table. That only makes Harry clutch his tummy and feign an exaggerated laugh.

Their conversation bounces around with every thought Harry pulls out of his pretty head. From the best garnish on a cake—tea leaves, which Louis decides is bullshit—to how often Louis’ eyes change colour.

“Every time you laugh they get brighter. Laugh too much and I might go blind.” Louis absolutely does not laugh at that. He kicks his feet out instead to hit Harry’s fancy shoes. 

It’s easy and the darkening of Harry’s cheeks as the night progresses forces Louis’ eyes lower down Harry’s face until they’re set on his lips.

They finish hesitantly, both eating slower as their plates empty, trying to hold the night still. 

Harry pays for Louis’ meal and Louis pays for Harry’s. The waiter thinks it’s ridiculous as well. 

Harry pulls Louis from his chair with both hands tight around Louis’. Harry walks backwards out the door, only letting go of one hand when they reach the street. 

Harry sings and swings Louis’ arm, the dim streetlights only over half of his face. It ranges from Sleepy Beauty to Sir Mix-A-Lot. It ranges from on key to off. But Louis’ blush is constant. 

Harry leads him to his flat, purposefully taking wrong turns that don’t go unnoticed, but Louis lets Harry pull him whichever way. He’s glad to stay in Harry’s company if only for minutes longer than needed, despite his shoes digging at his heels. 

That doesn’t mean Harry won’t get complaints. 

“Harry my feet are tired. Why didn’t you bring your car?” Harry is skipping, down random streets, Louis is sure. He’s probably lost.

Harry glances down at Louis’ feet. “I wanted to hold your hand.” He squeezes his fingers.

“Oh, so this was supposed to be romantic?” Louis teases.

“It is!”

“Will you carry me?” Louis pulls Harry’s arm down to his height and pulls him close. “Pretty please. Then I’ll be properly romanced.” Louis knows Harry will say yes. Before Louis finishes asking, Harry is already slowing his pace.

“Yes.” Harry slows to a stop and bends for Louis’ benefit.

Louis jumps up and down and crawls up Harry’s back in excitement. “You’re warm.” Louis notes. His chest pressed on Harry’s back, Louis can feel his heat even through the large coat. Harry laughs at him, jostling Louis slightly. “You gonna fall over?” Louis whispers, the wine affecting him more then usual. He blames Harry.

“No, of course not.” Harry bounces Louis further up his back, Louis assumes to let him know he’s got a good hold on him. Louis jostles his legs to cross them tightly on Harry’s front.

“What if I made you?” Louis rocks from side to side, trying to push Harry’s weight off balance.

“Louis.” Harry warns, his tone like a small child’s when attempting authority. 

“You’re going to fall,” Louis taunts. With his arms around Harry’s neck, he can feel his pulse.

“For you? Maybe.” He’s smiling. Louis can tell his smile is stupid from the tilt of his head.

Louis snorts in Harry’s ear. “That’s a beautiful line.” He says quietly, just for Harry’s ears. Louis throws his hands out to the sides, his chest still pressed against Harry’s back. “Harry loves me!” 

Harry grabs Louis arms with one hand, his other gripping Louis’ legs together to pull him close and secure. He’s shaking his head the whole manoeuvre. All while Louis giggles in his hair. After securing him, Harry starts singing, “I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you and on this night and in this light, I think I’m falling.” He shifts into a hum and starts swaying.

“Maybe you’ll change your mind.” Louis sings back. His arms lock tightly around Harry’s shoulders.

“Maybe if you make me fall.” Harry hums still. It would be Harry’s fault, a hundred percent, if he fell. He’d also owe Louis a cake for dropping him.

“Thought I already did.” They are at the point where Louis can see his building. Harry didn’t take enough wrong turns.

“Okay. You going to come down and kiss me now?” Harry’s feet are scuffing the ground now. He doesn’t want Louis to go either. Maybe he thinks Louis is warm, too.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Louis moves his hands lower to tickle at Harry’s waist, giggling when Harry twitches away from his touch. 

“Yes.” Harry spins them around to dodge Louis’ hands. He ignores Louis’ yelp when Harry’s feet almost catch over each other. 

Harry steadies and stops steps away from Louis’ door.

“Well, fine then.” Louis huffs as Harry bends down to let Louis off. Harry turns around with a too smug smirk. Louis can’t have that. 

Harry steps in close to Louis. His eyes are so green and trace circles around Louis’ face, between his eyes, his cheeks, and his lips. Harry steps forward and the green gets bigger. Louis sucks in his lips, the only thing he can hide from Harry’s hard gaze. Louis holds his hands behind his back, waiting for Harry to come closer. 

Once Harry reaches out, presumably for Louis’ hips, Louis takes off towards his flat. “You’ll have to catch me, then!” His feet are still sore. That’s the only reason Harry catches up quickly. 

Louis is giggling when Harry grabs him around the middle from behind, lips near Louis’ ear. “Kiss kiss.” Louis flips around in Harry’s arms, his stomach flipping at the same time. 

Louis finds the green first and steps on Harry’s toes to reach up to Harry’s height. He doesn’t take his time before he presses up against Harry’s lips with his own. 

Harry’s arms tighten, almost lifting Louis off of his feet. It’s quiet apart from the noise of Louis’ shoes over Harry’s. And Louis does a shit job of not smiling all the way through it. 

Harry’s lips are dry as they move against Louis’. Louis’ are still sticky with wine. But it’s soft and it’s short before Harry pulls away. And there are those green eyes again, just looking, for a moment, until he closes his lips on Louis’ again.

Toe to toe, mouth to mouth. Louis can feel all of Harry against him. Harry only pulls him closer until Louis runs his hands up Harry’s arms to lock around his neck.

“Sweet dreams.”

*

“Morning Eleanor! I’m in love!” His Saturday sleep goes much the same as the night before; dreaming of curly locks and wine coloured cheeks, and waking with the feeling of Harry’s lips still engraved on his own.

He’s ignored most of Eleanor’s texts, so he figures it would be awfully rude to blow off Sunday brunch in turn of finding Harry, despite how pleasant that option sounds. 

He finds her in her usual corner at their designated brunch table. It’s a dainty restaurant Louis is sure Harry would like. 

He should have invited him. 

Eleanor and Louis found the place on one of their tea hunting expeditions in Uni. The tea is fine, but the food is superb.

She puffs her cheek out for Louis to press his lips against. “It was good then?”

He replays both dates, paying extra attention to carefully explain the icing on the cake. Eleanor is endeared, of course. Usually, when she fishes, she gets a single adjective on some guy’s hands or cock.

But Louis strings sentences together on Harry’s blush alone.

Eleanor’s attentive and doesn’t mind when Louis checks his phone at Harry’s texts. 

‘I was thinking about you.’

And that’s all it says, but it’s enough to turn Louis red and laugh out his uncovered mouth.

It’s simple and it stays simple.

Harry comes in to the café every morning, a wave no longer suiting his fancy. He gets Louis to blush and laugh and kisses him and leaves. 

The next Saturday morning, Harry appears with tired eyes and smiley lips at Louis’ door, demanding they take a walk in the nice weather, despite the warning clouds of an upcoming shower. 

“I brought you an umbrella.” Harry pouts at Louis’ apprehensive eyes. He’d only woken less than an hour before. 

And he goes with Harry because he would go everywhere with Harry. Quickly finding his coat and pocketing his phone, and they’re out in the dull morning light, surrounded by loud conversations.

They’ve walked a solid half hour before it starts spitting. Harry pulls the umbrella over their heads. Louis uses it as an excuse to move closer. It switches between comfortable silence and cutting each other off with rushed conversation. 

The rain falls harder against the roof of the umbrella. Louis looks up to watch. It’s not heavy enough that they would return home. Harry wouldn’t allow that even if it were pouring. Louis thinks he would find Harry dancing until he got a cold. 

Their shoulders brush every once in awhile, and Louis unconsciously touches Harry’s back when he crosses the road.

“I like the rain.” Harry tells Louis, even though Louis could have told Harry that. Louis only laughs and moves his arm around Harry’s waist. Louis doesn’t know where they are but figures Harry has a better idea then him.

Harry starts singing before checking his watch. “Shit, I have to be at the bakery in thirty.”

Louis slows, not wanting to say goodbye too quickly. He wraps his hands around the one Harry’s holding the umbrella handle with. “I’ll walk back with you, I have today off.” Maybe he could bug Liam again.

“Would you like to come bake with me?” Harry asks, looking down at Louis’ fingers, which are playing with Harry’s rings. They’re pretty, Harry’s rings. They’re colder than usual, probably because of the rain. 

“What would we bake?” Louis looks up, hopeful.

“Anything you’d like.”

“I would like to make your favourite thing.” They finish their walk towards Harry’s bakery, Louis’ hand over Harry’s until Harry closes the umbrella in front of the store.

Harry says goodbye to the woman with the morning shift and leads Louis to the back. It’s twice the size of the front room. It’s clean. And instead of caramel, it smells of blueberry.

Louis is lost. 

Peach pie is definitely not Harry’s favourite thing to make, but that’s what he wants to make.

Harry pulls out ingredients and sets them on the counter in front of Louis. He’s quick and organized, but Louis has no idea what to do with half of the shit. “Ready?”

“To watch you make me food? Yes!” Louis smiles too wide and jumps up on the stool next to the counter. Louis is good at watching Harry.

“You said you would help!” Harry crowds the stool, bracketing his arms around Louis. “Please.” Louis could probably get out of it, but he’ll do anything to make Harry happy.

Louis hops off the stool, stepping right into Harry’s space. “But I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I’ll guide you through it.”

And Harry tries his best.

It’s not as hard as originally expected. Mostly because Harry gives Louis all the easy steps to do, like mixing in a bowl all the shit that Harry hands him.

Harry made the crust the previous day and tries to get Louis to roll it out. It especially doesn’t go well when Harry tells him to put some flour on the counter.

It’s only a little first. And the flour only makes it onto Harry’s apron, but quickly after Louis’ first throw and Harry is throwing it right back at Louis. He tries to duck, and really it is the immediate reaction when someone is throwing something at you, but it backfires and the flour lands all over Louis’ face. He sputters out the bits in his mouth, ready to attack Harry.

“Oh no!” Harry giggles, his sentiment not sincere in the slightest, but his fingers brush against Louis’ eyes nonetheless. Louis tightens his eyelids at Harry’s touch. His hands are soft, fixing the flour out of Louis’ eyes. “Better?” Green is the first thing Louis sees when his eyes open. He blinks repeatedly before focusing in on them. “Here.” Harry’s still giggling when he grabs a towel and clears the rest of the flour away. 

“Okay, silly boy.” Louis brushes out his fringe, Harry still laughing at him with the towel in hand. “Let’s get back to work.” Louis grabs the towel and winds it up, making the perfect shot at Harry’s ass. 

He yelps before getting back to the pie. 

He keeps telling Louis it is coming along nicely, and after Harry kicks Louis away from the crust and shapes it around the pan, Louis can finally see a pie coming along.

“Brandy or bourbon?” Harry holds out two bottles for Louis to inspect.

“You trying to get me drunk, Styles?”

“It won’t be enough to get you anywhere near drunk.” Harry forces the bottles closer to Louis’ face. Louis nods to the bourbon. It’s the last thing Harry mixes with the peach filling before pouring it into over the crust.

Louis simply watches as Harry shapes the dough over the filling in a fancy vine and flower design. It looks like something from the cover of a cooking magazine.

They sit in the back while it’s baking. Louis is back on the stool, and Harry’s awkwardly on his lap when he’s not with a customer or checking the pie in the oven. 

Harry’s in his element, suggesting a new flavour to a customer, or ready with a loaf of bread for a regular. 

When he’s done closing, the first thing he grabs is Louis’ hand, spinning him in circles on the pavement until they reach Louis’ doorstep. It’s still light outside when Louis drags Harry in the door. 

It’s all giggles and bad-aimed kisses down the hallway, Harry’s soft hands raking down Louis’ chest, and Louis’ fingers tangling in Harry’s curls. 

Louis’ sheets circle around him when Harry presses him down on the bed and crawls over top. 

It’s better than it should be, Louis’ sure. 

Harry’s soft and he’s gentle and attentive and his shining eyes don’t leave Louis’.

It’s urgent without being rushed and Louis has been doing something wrong his entire life, because it’s never been this good.

He doesn’t muffle his whines except in Harry’s mouth.

And when it’s over, Harry giggles in his neck and Louis can still feel him when he presses kisses all over his face and moves the hair out of his eyes.

“I want to do this for the rest of my life.” Harry whispers to the dark room, writing simple designs along Louis’ naked back.

“What? Fuck me?” Louis reaches behind his back to grab Harry’s hands.

Louis can feel him shake his head in Louis’ hair. “Fall asleep with you.” He’s slurring, half asleep. “I can’t wait to wake up to my dream.” He nuzzles his faces closer. “But the other thing too, maybe.” Louis pulls the covers up to their waist and grabs Harry’s hands around his waist.

Louis can’t remember the last time he laughed in bed.

*

The bell goes off much like every time Louis enters the bakery. Harry is reading on the counter, his lips following the words on the page. Peaceful and concentrated.

He’d stayed over the night and all day Sunday. They made hot chocolate after brunch with Eleanor and sat on the bay window watching the rain.

Harry looks up quickly to see Louis enter. A smiles covers most of his face until slowly schooling it back into a simple smirk. “Hello there. Welcome to Cocoon Bakery.” He flattens his apron and he stands tall. 

Louis scoffs at the name. “Hello. What a lovely place you have here.” He plays along. 

“It is, isn’t it?” Harry closes his book and shuffles it over on the counter towards his bag. “Is there something I can get for you today?” He’s got on his professional face. Very serious.

“Yes, I suppose so.” Louis peers behind the glass of the fresh pastries, wondering what Harry’s made this morning, seeing if he can pick out the items that weren’t there last time he was in. “You look like one of good taste. What would you recommend?” 

“This here is quite splendid.” Harry grabs the tray behind the glass carrying their peach pie. He sets it on the counter in front of Louis. He wouldn’t want to ruin the perfect flowers covering over the peach if there weren’t a few pieces missing already, one of which Louis and Harry shared when it was still warm from the oven.

Harry cuts a piece of pie for Louis and reaches towards Louis with it in his hand. Louis wraps his lips around Harry’s fingers. “Yum.” It’s good, of course it’s good, Louis helped make it. 

“You just get off?” Harry pushes the rest of the pie over with a fork on the side of the plate. 

Louis happily takes it. “Mhm.” Louis nods around his fork.

“Alright, let me grab my things.” His things consist of his bag and a box. A box from the bakery that usually holds cake inside. “Let’s go.” Louis downs the rest of the pie and resists the urge to grab the cake from Harry’s hands to see what it is.

It’s nice outside with the sun still up and no clouds in the sky.

“You made me a cake?” Louis finds Harry’s car right beside Louis’ spot. Harry’s now claimed it as his own spot now and complains whenever Louis gets too close to the separating line.

“Yes.” Harry puts in a new CD and drives them back to the pond by Louis old house. This time Harry takes the lead, pulling Louis along to their seat. “Okay, close your eyes.” It’s familiar, of course. Same bench, same pond, same large eyes. 

New cake.

“Are you going to shove it my face?” Louis asks, closing his eyes anyway. That’s something Louis would do. Maybe he should do that.

“Maybe.” Liar. “Are they closed?” Louis can feel the air from Harry’s hand waving in front of his face.

“Yes, yes.” Louis tries to swat Harry’s hand away but Harry catches it and brings it towards his face. 

He kisses Louis’ knuckles and let’s his hand fall in his lap. “Ready?” This better be a good cake.

“I’m ready.” Louis hears Harry shuffle with the box, opening it carefully and tossing the box to the side. Louis hears nothing for a moment, just Harry admiring his cake or something. Louis hopes it has a portrait of himself.

“Okay.” He’s quiet. “Open.” 

He was ready to laugh. 

He was ready for a portrait of himself. 

He was ready to stuff Harry’s face in the cake.

“I love you.” Harry echoes the cake.

‘I love you –H’

Louis reads it in his head in Harry’s voice.

The ‘H’ is signed the exact same way as the note Harry left on Louis’ car. It’s signed in light blue writing, just like Harry’s pen, against green icing. And there’s a butterfly in the corner.

Harry is blushing. Or his face is turning red from how big his smile is. 

Louis is probably blushing too. 

He made him a cake. He’s made him a lot of cakes, and they all meant the same thing but this one says it so explicitly. 

Harry loves him.

And he made him a cake saying so.

Louis looks at the cake and then at Harry and his large pretty smile. 

Louis pushes his hand into Harry’s hair at the bottom of his neck and pushes him face down into the cake. 

“Louis!” Harry’s yelp throws Louis into a fit of giggles. 

“Harry!” Louis grabs Harry’s neck again and pulls his lips against his own. Harry moves against him, quickly smudging the icing over his face. “I love you too.” He whispers. 

“You do?” And Harry is giggling too and he presses closer to Louis and swings his leg to place himself on Louis’ lap. “Does that mean you’re going to make me a cake too?” He’s swaying his upper body with his arms resting on Louis’ shoulders.

“That’s exactly why I’m not going to make you a cake.” Louis grabs his waist. 

Harry giggles in Louis’ neck, spreading more icing in his hair. He peeks up. “You love me?”

Louis tries to focus on Harry’s eyes from the close proximity. “Yes.” He’s warm against him and he loves him.

“You’ll let me make cake for you then? For the rest of your life?”

“Yeah, yeah.” And he leans down to press their lips together again.

*

It alternates. Louis will go to the bakery when he’s done at the tea shop and bug Harry until he’s ready to go, and the next day, Harry will come cause mayhem at the café when he’s off, sometimes coming with a scone and sometimes calling out to Louis about a reservation he made for that night at some fancy restaurant.

Louis always get’s more antsy when he knows Harry is about to come by. 

He’s in the back room after refilling the jars low on leaves. When the door opens, he can tell it’s Harry. He always leaves the door open too long and his shoes are louder than anyone else who regularly comes by. 

“Hi, Harry.” Eleanor says while Harry’s in the process of closing the door behind him. Quietly and carefully as always. ‘I wouldn’t want to let the birds in. They might never want to leave. Or worse, they’ll tell their friends of the good company you keep,’ was Harry’s response when Louis questioned his door closing habit.

“Afternoon, Eleanor.” 

Louis races to the front room, leaning against the counter when he slams quietly against it. “Harry Edward!” He’s in all black with sparkly shoes. 

“Love of my life!” Harry responds easily, now stepping up near the till.

“I made you a tea.” Louis pulls off a mason jar from the shelf with a butterfly taped tightly around it. He spent the morning experimenting and perfecting Harry’s tea. It’s quite gross; he’s excited for Harry to tell him how great it is.

“You made me my own tea?” Harry nearly squeaks. 

Eleanor’s already got boiled water ready. Louis grabs Harry’s claimed cup—he likes it because of the chip on the handle. “Don’t cry yet, love. Taste it first.” The water turns light copper at the touch of the leaves.

Eleanor leans her hip against the counter. “You better like it. He spent all morning making me taste it.” She’s insistent. She informed Louis how much Harry would enjoy the tea no matter what was in it but happily tasted each with the same ‘that’s the one’ response. 

“I will.”

“I know you will.” Louis brings the cup and pot around the counter and hands it over to Harry. “It’s red rooibos, with peach, which I’m pretty sure you don’t actually like, but that’s okay. There’s caramel, rose petals—because of your blushing cheeks—and some Yorkshire leaves. Because you love me and all.” Harry takes the tea from Louis. “Sit down, here.” Louis sits opposite Harry at the table next to the front window. “Do you like it?”

Harry pours the tea from the pot into his cup, smiling even before he’s tasted it. “What would happen if I poured this over your head?”

“Nothing good,” Louis smiles. He’s happy Harry made the comparison between his tea and the love cake.

“Okay.” Harry sips it slowly. 

“Do you like it?” Louis leans over the table, taking the cup out of Harry’s hands and sipping some himself. 

“I like it. Tell me its name.”

“I Love You.” Louis hands the tea back with a kiss pressed on the tip of the cup.

Harry turns it around in his hands and drinks from the very same spot. “You too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading
> 
> tumblr: eleanorcaldit


End file.
